


Crocus

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: For your floral heart [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Cuddle for Warmth, Fluff, Harrow centric fic, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, while hiding your big gay feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: cro·cusnoun: crocus; plural noun: croci; plural noun: crocusesa small, spring-flowering plant of the iris family, which grows from a corm and bears bright yellow, purple, or white flowers.





	Crocus

**Author's Note:**

> So Flowers Come With Spring is now a series and this bit comes first! yay for heavy handed floral metaphors.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Viren, don’t be ridiculous,” said Harrow, as he picked up the blankets Viren had just laid out on the floor. “There’s more then enough room for both of us.”

Viren took them from the bed where Harrow had laid them, and began the process all over again, flicking the blankets out into a small bedroll on the cold floor with obvious agitation.

“That’s not proper, you’re the _king_ ,  Harrow, it’s only right—”

Harrow snatched the bedding from Viren’s hands, and grabbed him by the shoulders, physically putting his efforts to a stop. Viren looked at him, slightly wide eyed, but set his mouth into a familiar stubborn line.

“Harrow—” he began.

“No,” Harrow interrupted, shaking his head. “You are not sleeping on the floor. It’s _freezing._ ”

It was, too. His feet were cold in their boots; the entire lodge was chilly from the cool air leaking in, after the tree had fallen on Harrow’s normal rooms. Heat kept escaping out through the broken wall, but with the heavy snow and strong winds, they wouldn’t be traveling until the weather let up.

Harrow wasn’t about to make the children move rooms; Claudia was the only girl, and deserved her own bed, and Soren and Callum were old enough to be too large to share. Ezran was sleeping with his Aunt Amaya in the warm common room for the night, far from the broken wall.  There left no other beds spare but Viren’s, large enough to sleep two adults, but the room was in the same hall as Harrow’s chambers and very cold with frost creeping along the floor boards at his door frame not twenty feet away. Despite the fire in the stone fireplace, they both had their coats on, and Harrow loathed to think of when he would have to remove his fur lined boots.

There was a warming pan tucked into the bed already to chase away the chill of it, but unless Viren intended to sleep in the fire itself he wasn’t going to be warm on his makeshift bed on the floor.

Viren set his chin stubbornly.

Harrow could be stubborn too.

“I could order you, _Lord_ Viren.” Said Harrow softly. He gave Viren a little shake. “Stop being prideful. It’s only for one night.”

Viren stared at him balefully for several long, silent moments, then caved with a sigh.

“It’s not proper.”

“It would be less so to force me to tell your children their father died of hypothermia during the night.” Harrow joked, squeezing his shoulders affectionately with a smile. Viren flushed and ducked out of Harrow’s grip.

He kicked picked up the last blanket and pillow on the floor, and tossed them onto the bed, flicking the blanket to spread it over the rest.

“You should warm that pillow, Viren. You’ll catch a chill if you leave it so cold.” Warned Harrow, but Viren ignored him.

 He left the pillow, cold and exposed – unlike Harrows, which was tucked under the blanket, gathering warmth from the heat of the cast iron bedwarmer tucked between the sheets- and simply began the process of setting the fire for the night. It wouldn’t burn its self out, but it would burn down during the darkest hours and the room would cool.

Shaking his head, Harrow pulled the bedwarmer from the bed, dumping the coals back onto the fire. It hissed and popped as they struck it, shifting and throwing up embers. The firelight lit the room in flickers, casting both harsh and soft shadows that stretched and danced, an illusion of warmth on such a cold night.

“Don’t linger by the fire, Harrow, or the bed will be cool when you get in.” Viren warned.

Harrow threw a smirk over his shoulder, but set down the iron with a dull ring.

“I don’t need to worry about it cooling when I have somebody to warm it.” He joked.

It could have been the fire light, but Viren’s face seemed to colour. He turned his back on Harrow, and didn’t call him over again. Harrow shrugged, and returned to gazing at the flames, content to stand in the fire’s circle of warm for a little longer. He listened to the soft thump of Viren’s shoes being placed on the floor, and the faint fabric noise that came from thick wool when it was hung up.  A pause, and Viren made a soft, clear noise of discomfort.

Harrow grinned.

“I told you to warm your pillow.”

~*~

He stood for long enough that he assumed Viren had gone to sleep, lost in thoughts. The fire was so warm against the chill of the stone, the creep of it against the night slowing his worries for just a time. Sighing, Harrow fed the fire one last time, and turned to go to bed.

He was startled to see Viren’s eyes glittering in the dark, the flame moving across them from his place among the pillows. Against the unbleached linens, he was ghostlike in the dark. Wide dark eyes in a pale face, his dark hair out of place and dropping strands down into his eyes.  

“I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“It’s cold.”

Harrow shrugged. Reasonable enough.

He picked up the bedpan, and flipped it open. It wasn’t much effort to scoop some coals into the shallow dish at the bottom, Harrow giving it a shake to settle them out before latching it closed again. It was more a little metal basket, really, with enough holes to stop the coals from dying without letting them burn through to the linens.

He flipped up the bottom of the bed before Viren could stop him, shoving the heater near Viren’s feet, and smoothed it out again.

“You should have said something.” said Harrow, over the sounds of Viren hissing and scrambling to move his feet away.

Viren was sitting up in bed, no longer looking so wraithlike. _More like wrath like_ , Harrow thought with a chuckle _._ He had his arms crossed, hands tucked under his armpits with his shoulders drawn up to his ears. Perhaps more in cold then anger; Harrow really hadn’t considered that Viren may be more susceptible to the harsh bite of frost in the air. He always struck him as so put together, more like the snow that lay so heavily outside, then anything else.

But as he shivered in the cold, glaring balefully at Harrow, he reconsidered that impression. Viren was less like the smooth, endless expanse of snow, and more like the delicate winter flowers pushing their way up through it; vibrant and cold, bowing their heads in the shivering temperatures but so loudly, undeniably there. Like the vivid crocus blossoms, Viren drew eyes to him.

Cold, yes. Remote? Also yes. But so undeniably alive.

Viren cast him a suspicious look when he chuckled.

Harrow shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Are you warmer?” he asked.

“… Yes.” It was clearly a lie, but it left it alone.

This time Harrow didn’t flip up the covers when he pulled the bedwarmer free, sliding it carefully out of the foot of the bed so as to leave the most heat inside. Viren settled slowly back against the headboard, watching him rather then speaking.

He felt a spark of regret. The mage had been drowsy before, relaxed. It would have been easy to climb in, and have Viren drift off to sleep without any issues. But Harrow’s boyish impulse to prank him had woken Viren up and put him on guard, and now he was going to pay for his childish behavior with possibly hours spent in tense silence.

Sighing, Harrow dumped the coals back into the fire, and set the bedwarmer aside.

“Viren, I’m sorry. I should have left you to your rest.”

In the darkness, lit only by the low glow of the fire place, it was hard to gauge the flicker of emotions that ran across Viren’s face. Eventually, he seemed to settle on exasperated, and he patted the empty side of the bed.

“Get in and go to sleep. It’s too cold for this.”

Who was he to argue? Harrow left the fireside, and damn him, Viren was right; he was cold as soon as he stepped from the fire’s circle. Harrow hurried across the cold stone to the bed, and sat on the edge to toe off his boots. Briefly, he considered leaving his coat on – it was frigid at this end of the room, his toes aching on the stone the moment his feet were bare. It was little wonder Viren was so cold.

Harrow made quick work of his jacket, hanging it off the bedframe rather then the hook – he had a feeling that come morning, when the fire was low and they were both sleep warm, he wasn’t going to be in the mood to step out of bed to reach it. The blankets were thick and heavy, and seemed to weigh themselves down like lead as he folded them back, slipping underneath quickly so as not to let too much heat escape.

His crown was a cold ring on his forehead, and it rang a low and soft tone when he placed it on the night stand, along with the tie for his hair. The gold decorating his hair was frigid, and he would rather have it soak up the warmth of his skin in the night then burn him when he woke and fowl his mood.

Viren shifted beside him, sliding back to lay down once more. He was careful about how he moved the covers, and when he settled they were tucked against his chin once more. The room filled with the sound of the fire, and once Harrow was settled, the quiet was almost overwhelming. He wanted to say something, but what was there to say?

“Goodnight, Viren.” He muttered softly, instead.

Viren rolled onto his side, and only then Harrow understood how close they were. The covers pulled with his movements, and a sliver of cold air snaked between them. Viren made a soft noise of displeasure, and Harrow felt the bed shiver slightly. But he didn’t lay flat, and the tiny gulf remained, cool air pooling between them.

Harrow considered it, the sighed. He shuffled over until his arm brushed Viren’s back, and the coolness went away, tension running out of the covers.

“…. The bedding isn’t very wide.” Viren warned, belatedly.

Harrow really should have known that, it wasn’t like his was any better.

This did not feel restful. Beside him, Viren was tense, clearly wide awake. Whenever Harrow shifted, Viren tensed more, until he was practically vibrating with it.

Harrow’s eyes widened.

_Oh._ No, not tension. Viren was shivering, but trying to keep the motion to himself.

“Viren, are you cold?” he asked softly.

“No.” Viren lied, but the soft chatter in the word gave him away even if the hard shiver hadn’t.

Carefully, Harrow rolled over, and reached to place his hand against Viren’s back.

“How on earth can you be _this cold_ and still sleep alone at night?” he said without thinking, not meaning anything hurtful by it.

But Viren flinched away from him, casting a narrow eyed look over his shoulder.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

Harrow sighed. He’d meant, how didn’t Viren own  cat, or some other companion animal ton sleep on his bed and warm his feet. But it didn’t seem like that would help truly.

“I meant to offense,” said Harrow instead, coaxing Viren to roll over towards him with a hand on his arm. The mage resisted, then gave in with a visible reluctance. That wasn’t all of it; there was a sort of hesitance about Viren that Harrow couldn’t place, and he set it aside for another time.

“You’ll catch your death sleeping on the edge like that, in this cold.”

Viren fixed him with another sharp eyed, inscrutable look.

“And you would have me do what, Harrow? Lay in your arms and sleep the night away?” Viren’s soft words had more irony then venom, like he’d already dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Harrow hummed.

“Well, as long as it’s your idea—” said Harrow with a grin, only to have to grab Viren again, stop him from climbing out of the bed. “Okay, okay- I’m sorry, Viren, please settle down. I’ll stop teasing.”

It was a sort of frozen moment, a stand off. Viren wary – Harrow was sure he had made a normally harmless situation tense simply by his silly pranks and jokes, but there truly was something off in Viren’s face. a vulnerability that seemed out of place for him.

Harrow lay down slowly, and held out his arm, with a space underneath it for Viren to lay down against him.

“Lay down, Viren. Rest. We have such a very long day tomorrow, and this night is so cold. Let’s not make it harder on each other.”

Perhaps it was his words, or the frigid bone chill in the air, but Viren wavered. He sunk back to the bed, and haltingly, with slow stiff motions, lay down beside Harrow, back to him once more. Harrow gave him a moment, then shuffled closer, settling an arm carefully over his waist.  Viren’s hand touched his wrist, and his fingers were cold, like he’d been out in the snow rather then tucked away in bed for the last few hours.

It took several minutes, but as Harrow’s warmth soaked through both layers of their clothing into Viren, the mage relaxed. In stages, until his hand was curled – not warningly- but simply resting, on the hand Harrow had splayed on Viren’s chest, holding him close. he was such a tall mean, but laying down it was of no consequence, and Viren’s head ended up on Harrow’s other arm, tucked under the pillow and then under Viren’s neck; his body tucked into the curl of Harrow’s own body, soaking warmth from him at every point of contact.

 Asleep before he likely realized it.

Harrow would have liked to stay awake and appreciate this vulnerability, the soft side of Viren that never lasted long once he stumbled across it, fleeting like the snow blossoms in January, Viren was warming and their shared heat, along with the glow of the fire, bought a heaviness to Harrow’s eyes. The comforting weight of someone sleeping in his arms, holding and being held, and before Harrow knew it he, too, was drifting off to sleep.


End file.
